ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

How holy infancy

With its mysterious glee,

And childhood with its mirth

Which only One can fully read,

Shall in the Father's kingdom reap the seed
Sown here on earth,

When He who bought them with His blood
Has gather'd lilies in the bud,

Åre of those solemn mysteries

Which wait us in the skies.

But this is granted to our longing eyes Heaven's mansions (so Eternal Love hath will'd) With children and with child-like saints are fill'd. And when we dimly faintly realize The numbers without number,

The multitudinous throng

From every kindred, tribe, and tongue,
Of babes and sucklings gather'd home
Before they learn'd in paths of sin to roam,
Which in our waking hours and hours of
slumber

Pass the pearl gates of Paradise,

What eye can count the wavelets of that sea
Which circles with an ever-deepening flood
Of crystal-clear felicity

The sapphire throne of God?

What though each little voice
Which sings, "Rejoice, rejoice,"
Be in itself a humble thing;
A tiny slender string

Upon the harp of all creation's praise,
A thread of gossamer then only seen
When glancing in the sheen
Of the sun's golden rays?

What if one infant's treble in that chant
Melodiously jubilant

Be but the smallest flute-voiced reed,
Which none would care alone to heed,
Of that vast organ, into which is pour'd
The Spirit of the Omnipresent Lord?
Yet let that trill of song

A thousand times ten thousand multiplied,
Like ocean's bosom gathering the rills
That trickle down the everlasting hills,
Through heaven's eternal arches peal along :
And that majestic tide

Shall be as many waters, or the roll
Of mighty thunderings from pole to pole.

True, there are grand and noble chords
On that great harp of eucharist,

Deep toned and vibrating to loftiest words:
Prophet and patriarch

Who loved to mark
The shadows of the coming Christ;
And, when He came,
Apostle, Martyr, and Evangelist
Who joy'd to suffer shame
And die for His dear name:
And lordly kingly souls of every age
Whose record is on high

In chronicles above the sky,
Unwritten in fame's partial page,
But known by secret signs
God's heroes and God's heroines :
Massive and vast

These pipes of heaven's great organ, cast
True metal in celestial mould,

Responsive to the Spirit's gentlest breath
Or loudest blast,

Still echoing Jehovah saith,

And uttering things new and old

In tones alike submissive and sublime,
That whoso listens learns the mind of God
And glories that the heirs of flesh and blood
The walls of heaven can climb.

Not in dispraise of them

The leaders of our militant array
Remember we the babes of Bethlehem,
Unconscious martyrs for their Lord to-day
But lost in adoration of His love,
Who fashions all

Things great and small

For an eternity of bliss above.

The hills must have their heathery bloom
Of purple and perfume:

The sun must glisten in the dews,
Or morn her diamond brightness lose ;
Night could not spare the feeblest gem,
That sparkles in her diadem:

And heaven, with all its choirs

Of saints and angels link'd in tune
And harpers harping on their golden lyres
The name of the Triune,

Needs mid her throug of worshippers
These babes, these innocent choristers
Who ever on the wing

And singing, for they cannot choose but sing
For joy of heart always,

Are in their weakness strong

And perfect heaven's harmonious song
Of everlasting praise.

So, happy mother, quaff

The cup of joy that overflows the brim,
And in the music of thy infant's laugh,
And in the smile upon its cheek

Which whispers more than words can speak,
Catch echoes of the songs of cherubim.
These lights so faint and fugitive
By which we live,

Are no mere idle dreams,
But prophecies, foreshadowings,
Heralds and gleams

Of better things to come,

Where seraphs veil their faces with their wings In the calm glory of the Father's home.

THE FIRST SUNDAY AFTER
CHRISTMAS.

Lessons: Isaiah xxxv., xxxviii., xl.
Epistle Gal. iv. 1-8, Gospel : St. Matt. i. 18.

THE COLLECT.

ALMIGHTY God, who hast given us Thy only begotten Son to take our nature upon Him, and as at this time to be born of a pure Virgin; Grant that we being regenerate, and made Thy children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by Thy Holy Spirit; through the same our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the same Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

"The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; but the word of our God shall stand for ever."-Isaiah xl. 8.

O God, the Rock of Ages,
Who evermore hast been,
What time the tempest rages,
Our dwelling-place serene :
Before Thy first creations,
O Lord, the same as now,
To endless generations
The Everlasting Thou !
Our years are like the shadows
On sunny hills that lie,
Or grasses in the meadows
That blossom but to die :
A sleep, a dream, a story
By strangers quickly told,
An unremaining glory

Of things that soon are old.

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »